


Deadly Dance

by Quiet_Shadow



Category: Yoroiden Samurai Troopers | Ronin Warriors
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Gen, Sparring, Swordfighting, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27311524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quiet_Shadow/pseuds/Quiet_Shadow
Summary: His legs move slowly, for he is careful in every gesture he makes, unwilling to tempt fate. He doesn’t have much of a choice anyway; the tiniest mistake in his footing, the slightest hesitation in the next move he makes could become lethal.Or, the war may be over, but some things don't change that much, and Seiji wonders if his sparring partner truly understands what a spare is supposed to be about.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	Deadly Dance

**Author's Note:**

> A very old ficlet originally written in french, which I ended translating to pass time while stuck in confinement back in April. And now we're confined again, I may go back to translate more old works again...
> 
> Good reading!

His legs move slowly, for he is careful in every gesture he makes, unwilling to tempt fate. He doesn’t have much of a choice anyway; the tiniest mistake in his footing, the slightest hesitation in the next move he makes could become lethal.

He’s facing a predator, after all. Well, not a real one, but the aura of his adversary is similar enough for him to feel tense and unnerved, even if he keeps his face impassible.

His adversary is not one to let a weakness escape him and he’s, sadly, more experienced than him and faster to identify potential weak points. Not only that, but he has a better knowledge of the ground around them, which is yet another problem.

He tightens his grip on his sword’s handle when he perceives the slight move his enemy made. The other fighter is tense, ready to lunge himself forward and attack, just like him. But neither of them is ready to take the first step, not yet. It’s a mental war they’re playing, one which seems endless, destinated to try and catch the other unaware the moment mental exhaustion set in.

They keep circling each other, blades at the ready, searching for the default in each other’s guard that will allow them to launch their assault. But there is nothing; both are keeping textbook-perfect postures.

Blue eyes stare into purplish-grey ones.

And suddenly, the tension is broken as the attack finally starts.

The strange circling dance they had started is suddenly more dangerous, more lethal.

The youngest of the two fighters raise his sword to parry a blow – and not a second too soon. He still grimaces, however, under the pressure it puts on his arm. He can feel his bones rattling. The moment he deems it safe, he’s breaking the hold and dodge to the side, readying his own blow.

It’s easily parried but he didn’t expect it to be any different. He’s moving again, lighting on his feet, parrying and parrying more aggressive blows. Only too late is he realizing he’s allowing himself to be pushed back too far. He tries to correct it, to change direction…

He’s not fast enough; he made no real mistake in the deadly dance of swords, but the other is just _that_ fast.

It’s over. And if it had been a real fight, he would have been dead.

Seiji glared at the tip of the blade pointed at his throat, just shy of touching the skin. Anubisu smirked, showing too many teeth.

“It seems that I’ve won this round, Kourin.”

“It seems so, yes,” Seiji acquiesced between gritted teeth. It’s not the loss which hurts his pride, it’s the tone the Masho use. “Now, if you would be so kind as to remove that sword from my sight…”

“Why? Scared?” the Yami Masho taunted. He didn’t move his hand.

Seiji snorted, clear disdain in his eyes.

“Hardly.”

“Oh? How regrettable; and here I was hoping it’d be the case! Maybe I should have left our fight last longer?” the blue-haired warrior’s smirk widened as he finally let his sword point to the floor.

“Anubisu…” Seiji started, sighing. “You’re aware we’re not enemies anymore, aren’t you?”

The Yami Masho had a irritated gesture. “Of course I know. You keep saying that – and so does everyone else. I’m not stupid nor _that_ forgetful, but thank you for reminding me so often.”

“No need to be so sarcastic,” Seiji replied icily. “It just that sometimes, you really seem to forget it. I mean…” He hesitated. “Your first blow…”

“Yes?” Anubisu raised an eyebrow.

“You’re aware that if I hadn’t blocked it, you would have killed me, right?” he asked, sounding more curious than accusatory. It was always a risk when training with real steel, which was why Seiji would have felt more at ease using practice weapons, but Anubisu had had other ideas and he had bowed. Maybe he shouldn’t have, after all…

The Yami Masho shrugged. “Well, I fully trust you to dodge that type of attack, Kourin. It’s not like you haven’t endured more serious ones before, is it? And you’re good at finding counterattacks,” he added as an afterthought. Perhaps it was meant to be a praise but if so, it was a clumsy one, given the circumstances. “You certainly never had trouble before. But perhaps I AM overestimating you, hmm?”

The blond teenager kept a neutral expression on his face, only pursing his lips when the older Samurai turned his back to him.

Shaking his head, he reached for a towel to wipe the sweat on his forehead. Rajura and Naaza had both warned him that training with Anubisu was a pain; he should have listened to them.

If it was how the Yami Masho always was during training, no wonder he had trouble finding partners…


End file.
